


What it means to be lucky

by nerdlife4eva



Series: Nerd's Chasing Gold Zine Story [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coach Victor Nikiforov, Coach/Player Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Injury Recovery, Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Paralympics, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 20:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13442961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/pseuds/nerdlife4eva
Summary: Yuri wakes up following a nightmare and does the only thing he knows how to do - train.A look at the relationship between Yuri and Coach Victor.This is the third fic promo for my piece for the amazingChasing Gold Zineleading up to the Paralympics where Yuri will compete against Minami and other athletes in the parathlon. Please follow the blog on Tumblr for updates on promos, previews, and pre-orders of this wonderful zine!





	What it means to be lucky

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to talk to me about this story, please come find me on Tumblr or Twitter here:  
> [NeRdLife4Eva](https://twitter.com/NeRdLife4Eva)  
> [n3rdlif343va](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/n3rdlif343va)

_Everything was cold. Waves lapped against his face, created by the strokes of his own arms pulling him forcefully through the water, lungs burning as he quickened his pace. His mind told him to move faster, his body reacting with skilled force, legs kicking to continue to propel him forward. Turning his head, he inhaled the summer air, the sharp contrast of the warmth on his face burning his lungs as his body rushed through the cool water. Sharpness against his shin made him react with a startled interruption to his rhythm, the subsequent sting of his skin making him come to a stop. In the darkness it was hard to see the cut and he shrugged it off, pushing on to return to his plotted course._

_Pain, bright and blinding, rang through his body as his leg became heavy. Flailing, he felt his foot being dragged toward the bottom of the lake, weighted and too heavy to fight against. The darkness swallowed him as he sank, arms and leg useless against the unexplainable pull to the bottom. Silently he screamed, water filling his lungs as the surface disappeared._

In the middle of his darkened room, Yuri screamed himself awake. Sitting up in the middle of his bed, sheets tangled around him from his unconscious struggle, Yuri heaved, lungs begging for air that had been robbed of him in the dream. Angrily, he reached up to grab fistfuls of his hair, yanking the strands into tightened fists and anchoring himself with the pain.

The nightmare wasn’t even accurate. Scowling at the viciousness of his own mind, Yuri tossed the blankets from himself, scooting to the edge of the bed and rubbing the joint of his knee where his leg now ended. The water had been warm and the sun had been shining high in the sky. The scratch had been so small Yuri hadn’t even stopped swimming, only discovering he was bleeding when he reached the shore and dragged his tired body from the water. Yakov had told him not to swim in the lake, but Victor had trained there and if Victor could do it, there was no reason Yuri couldn’t. He had scoffed at the blood, swiping at it with his t-shirt, before stomping back toward his bike.

Two days later, Yuri woke in the hospital with the addition of several IV tubes running into his body and his leg missing.

An infection, the surgeon explained, had entered Yuri’s body through the small cut. A rare, potentially deadly bacteria had gotten in through that miniscule break in his flesh. He was told he was lucky that he had only lost his leg, spared from the knee up and saving his life. Yuri had demanded that the doctor define lucky, before throwing the metal bedpan across the room and screaming at everyone to get out. In his opinion, if he couldn’t compete, his life hadn’t been worth saving.

Feeling the familiar churn in his stomach, Yuri irritably snagged his artificial body part from its resting place, snapping it onto his body with furious flicks of his fingers. He hated every inch of the plastic and metal device. Standing, he snarled at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He was incomplete and damaged, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it. Yanking open his bedroom door, Yuri made his way into the hallway, shirtless and dressed only in his sleep shorts. Flipping off the door to Victor’s bedroom for good measure, Yuri made his way down the stairs, veering toward the weight room at the back of the house.

It had been three years since Victor had offered to coach him and a little over two since Yuri had moved into the overly large house in St. Petersburg. Medical bills had been hell and Yuri couldn’t stand to stay in the same small apartment with his grandfather any longer. The looks of sympathy from anyone else made Yuri’s blood boil in anger, but those same looks from his grandfather made him want to weep his apologies. He had screwed up and it had cost him his entire life.

Setting weights onto the bar, Yuri took the time to stretch his arms and back before settling on the bench. Victor had rules about benching without a spotter, but Yuri couldn’t find the desire to care. Letting the frustration of his continuously repetitive and inaccurate nightmare fuel him, he lifted the bar from its cradle and began to press it from his chest toward the ceiling.

From the door, Victor silently watched Yuri disobey his lifting rules. He had woken with Yuri’s screams, a now nightly occurrence as the stress of competition began to haunt his young athlete. It was useless to approach the topic with Yuri on any morning, his athlete having a talent for deflection and lies. Victor had dragged himself out of bed hoping that maybe the odd hour would make Yuri more open to a discussion.

_“You will have to learn to walk with the prosthetic limb,” a doctor with an air of detached arrogance informed him, “you’ll start your rehab here and then continue it when you are discharged.”_

_Continue this, fucker_ , Yuri spat inside of his mind, feeling the bitter anger welling inside of him at the memory. His emotions had become like the ocean, hurt and rage swelling like the waves of a summer storm to violently crash along the shore of his heart in rotation with periods of eerie calm, still and waiting for the next thrashing squall.  He was never settled, never happy, and Yuri felt the hot tears began to slip down his face as he pushed his arms to keep working. Even as they began to shake with fatigue, he kept going, shoving the bar over his chest with bitter puffs of determined breaths.

Seeing the vibrations of Yuri’s muscles, Victor wiped a hand down his face. Once he crossed the room it was going to be the start of the next round of fighting and Victor wasn’t sure he had it in him. Reminding himself that none of this was about him, Victor moved quietly across the room, snagging the bar from Yuri’s hands a second before Yuri’s arms gave out.

“What are you doing?” Yuri snapped, relinquishing his questionable hold on the bar and shoving up from the bench. “I don’t need your help!”

Wincing at the sudden loudness of Yuri’s voice, Victor counted backwards as he replaced the bar on its resting place. When he had first offered to coach Yuri, he had taken a softer approach, telling himself that Yuri needed love and understanding. This mistake had gotten Victor’s head verbally bitten off by his athlete and he had to rethink his tactic. Kind consideration hadn’t work, and yelling hadn’t worked either, but staying even with his own temperament had proven to be marginally successful. Sucking in a tired breath, Victor shrugged his shoulder, stepping away from the bar. “You have to take your shirt off for weigh in and your physical. Do you really want to explain why you have a giant bruise across your chest?” Logic without feelings had also proven successful with Yuri and Victor stepped back to cross his arms over his chest waiting for Yuri’s reaction.

“Whatever,” Yuri grunted, refusing to admit that he would have struggled to remove the bar from his own chest after his misguided attempts to power lift away his nightmare. Crossing the room to grab a towel from the shelf, Yuri hastily wiped his face, hoping Victor didn’t notice his tears. “I don’t need company,” he grumbled, glaring at Victor over his shoulder as he ran the towel over his arms. “Or supervision.”

“Got it,” Victor said, letting his arms drop, “but if you want to talk, now or in the morning, you know where to find me.” He didn’t dare come within reaching distance of Yuri, walking toward the door before pausing to look back over his shoulder. “I used to push myself beyond my limits too. I was convinced that to be the best, I had to be alone, in life and at the top of the podium. But, I was wrong.” Turning around when Yuri remained silent, Victor chose his next words carefully. “You will succeed in this sport, you were born to win, but not because you pushed yourself to the breaking point. You will win if you can learn what your limits are and how to work with them. Stop fighting your body and start working with it.”

Twisting the towel in his hands, Yuri let his glare start at Victor’s feet running all the way until he was aiming a hard look at Victor’s face. “What do you fucking know about being alone?” The question was unfair and Yuri knew it, but his anger had to go somewhere. Everyone else in his life had given up on him. Victor kept coming back though, so Yuri rewarded him for this by using him as an emotional punching bag. “You picked this life. You picked your fucking limits,” the venom in Yuri’s words made Victor’s eyes narrow but he remained quiet. “You got to make choices, you didn’t have them fucking thrust upon you. You’re Victor Nikiforov, gold medalist, Russia’s Living Legend. You don’t fucking get it.”

“No,” Victor shook his head, leveling his anger as best as he could. “You are Yuri Plisetsky. Russia’s miracle. Inspiration to many, pain in the ass to me. And you don’t fucking get what that means.” Bending to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini fridge by the door, Victor threw it in Yuri’s direction. “Enjoy your work out, don’t push yourself too hard. Real training starts at six a.m.”

Slamming his towel on the ground, Yuri dropped onto the closest bench, head pressing into his hands as the sobs finally took over.

Leaning against the wall of the hallway, Victor let his own tears begin to fall.


End file.
